


Hand in Hand

by randompandemic



Series: Fifteen Kisses [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Perc'ahlia, and fluff, because i am weak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 16:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8378545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randompandemic/pseuds/randompandemic
Summary: Percy and Vex'ahlia spend too much time thinking about holding hands.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (They are imagined hand kisses, they count toward the 15 kisses! Sssshh) Percy's POV is set before stream, Vex's POV is set sometime after the title but before Glintshore.

**Percy:**

They walked the streets of Emon as heroes that day. Celebrated, adored, people cheering their names. Colourful snippets of paper were raining from every window and Percy watched as they got tangled in Vex’ahlia’s hair. He walked a few steps behind her, slightly to her right, and in truth paid barely a mind to the festivities around them.

He watched her with a smile he could barely even control like she was the onlything worthy of attention on a day like this. He watched the slight spring in her step, the bright, joyful smile on her face despite all the beating they had taken in the last weeks. It all seemed distant, now that they were the heroes of Emon, the Champions who had saved the city. For her, that seemed all the reward needed. Well, that, and the vast fortune that had been dropped on them. A fortune they would funnel into the construction of their Keep, but for now, it was in her possession, and if there was anything he had learned about Vex’ahlia since they travelled together it was that this woman really, really liked to be in charge of money.

_Mother would have loved her._

The thought snapped through him like a whip, followed by a dull, old pain. He focused on her, more intently, to lock out these thoughts, but it was too late. His mother _would_ have loved her, indeed. Or, at the very least, she would have loved Vex’ahlia’s business sense. Everything else about her? Not so much. Everything about her was contrary to what he had grown up with. Her open, honest way of showing affection – her relationship with her brother, for all their bickering, so much warmer and heartier than anything he had ever had with his siblings. The way she had allowed this weird little family they had gathered into her heart. When he looked at her, he wished he knew how to handle that kind of affection. He knew, of course, that there were things Vex’ahlia did not share with anyone but her brother. There was a constant guard around her he had become aware of over time. In a way, he was almost convinced she had as much of a persona built to protect herself from being hurt as he had. But he believed the way she cared about their weird family was genuine.

Coming from a family that had been distant and cold even at the best of times, no matter how much they had all loved each other, her way of expressing her feelings was so entirely foreign to him it still took him by surprise sometimes. He would never really get used to her expressing her gratitude for an arrow or another type gift he had made for her by pulling him into a hug or planting a kiss on his cheeks – no matter how much he enjoyed these kisses.

Often – right now included – he found himself wondering what it would be like if he _could_ show his feelings in such a way. If he were another man, a better man, a man with less baggage to his past and his name. Maybe he would be the kind of man who would catch up with her now and reach for that hand swinging by her side now. He would weave his fingers between hers and hold her hand as they continued their victory march through the city. She would perhaps be surprised by it at first, but he wondered if she would pull away or if she would allow it. If she would cast him one of those bright smiles. He would smile back, and he would not let her hand go, hold on to the warmth of her, feel her delicate fingers. Later, they would sit together at the feast and he would still hold her hand, his thumb absentmindedly caressing the back of it. And before they parted for the night, he would bring her hand up to his lips and brush a kiss over her knuckles, barely even a touch, just enough to feel the warmth of her skin, to get a faint hint of her scent – wildflowers, the wood polish she used to treat her bow, probably bear fur from the many times she quite literally buried herself in bear hugs with Trinket. A gentleman’s kiss, but still more than he would ever have the strength to do. The thought of showing affection like that, and allowing it to be real, allowing her to become a target for all the horrible things that were just a part of his life…

He’d rather not show anything at all. He’d rather keep her away from him, so she could remain beautiful and wild and free and completely unattainable. That was better. Keep her away from him, away from the demons of his past – and the literal demons he had signed his soul over to. She was better off without him.

* * *

**Vex'ahlia:**

“Do take better care of yourself, darling?” she asked. Blood was still running through his palm from the cut. That’s what happened when the tinkerer was not paying attention to what he was tinkering. The cut was not deep, but the hands were sensitive, so it was bleeding ridiculously. Percy flinched a little under her touch and pulled a face, but before it could truly hurt, the healing magic set in. A faint green shimmer flowed from her fingertips and began stitching the cut back together tenderly as they both watched.

She was trying not to look at him, for she feared to fall into his blue eyes like the sky. Now that she had her broom to fly she had to grudgingly accept that maybe she did not want the sky as much anymore as she wanted his eyes to linger on her forever. _What a fool I am_ , she thought with a smile to herself and hoped he would not see it. A fool to ever think there could be something more. A fool to lie awake at night and wonder ‘when he says I am his favourite, does he mean that I am his favourite or am I his _FAVOUITE_? HE gave you a title. What does that mean?’ She felt like a silly little girl. Strangely enough, she did not feel like she had felt when she had been a girl. Back then, all she felt was mocked, and inadequate, and looked down upon and frowned upon. But with him, she never felt like that. With Percy, such concerns seemed far away, with him, she felt like she mattered, like he truly, honestly, enjoyed her company. She felt… worthy, when she was with him. And she knew how silly that sounded.

_‘I have known a lot of people with money and they are definitely not worth you.’_ Just thinking about that made her feel like she couldn’t stop smiling.

Once the cut was sealed and the healing magic in its last glimmers, she brushed her fingertips along the tender skin of a barely visible scar. “I hope that won’t impede your work.”

“It will be fine. Thank you…” he said. There was a moment’s hesitation before he closed with her name. Had he wanted to say something else? His hesitation had made Vex look up, and Gods dammit there they were, his eyes, always sad, always guarded, but so bright and so blue and so intensely focused on her. She smiled.

“Anytime,” she replied, glancing back down at his palm, her fingers still caressing the lines and memories of his work. Percy had lovely hands. She could see every day of his work in them – little scars caused by fine cuts or from little burns when his guns malfunctioned, old callouses from handling his delicate tools, there was always a little oil residue under his nails. His fingers were slender, delicate almost, the hands of a craftsman, nimble and clever, precise and quick. They were not the hands of a nobleman who had never worked a day in his life. They were honest hands, with lines, with wear and tear, and she could stare at them all day. She pulled her gaze away with a quirky smile. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“I… um, I… what?”

Vex giggled.

“Sorry darling, I couldn’t resist!” she said, brushing it off as a joke. A dare, really, because had he said yes, would she have had the guts to do it? To brush her lips over that new scar in his palm, let his fingertips stroke her cheek? She would have probably chickened out of that, so she was honestly grateful he had not said yes. Her gaze wandered to the healed cut again, and she closed his fingers over it, then pulled away. “Anyways! Should we find the others?”

“Yes… yes, maybe we, um, we should.”

Percy cleared his throat and Vex’ahlia brushed her hair back, arranged her braid carefully before she got to her feet, patted dust from her knees. They left his workshop together, and for a moment she wanted to hold his hand as they left. A thought she shook off as fast as it had come to her. Really, how old were they? Twelve?


End file.
